


Friends, Lovers, and Hunters

by Kiwi25



Category: Supernatural, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Comment Fic, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwi25/pseuds/Kiwi25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonnie Bennett meets Dean Winchester...random comment fic for the following prompt..."It's the end of the world as we know it..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Friends, Hunters, and Lovers_ **

Somewhere in the dusty old bar there’s a song playing. Bonnie remembered it from the days her mother still lived under the Bennett roof. She wanted to dance, sing, shimmy her hips, but she can’t, there’s no more time for fun. It is the end of the world and she knows it. There are things much worse than vampires and werewolves with scores to settle beyond these four walls. So when the woman with the soft eyes looked up from the bar and asked, _whatcha drinking_ , she didn’t mumble. Clearly and plainly she ordered Jack neat.

 

There were no questions about id and legal drinking ages. Everyone’s defenses were set to fight or flight. Two months, it had only been two months since they put Klaus to bed and now she knew the devil was real. She doesn’t say a word. She slammed the drink back and motioned for another. She was only supposed to come in scope the place out and see if there was anyone that could help.

 

The music took her to another place and time. When things were simpler and her only concern was floating down feathers on the air. Now she was on the road, searching for new friends, killing demons, and willingly laughing at Damon Salvatore’s sadistic humor. Speaking of a certain devil, she heard the cock of the woman’s shotgun when the door opened.

 

“It’s just Damon,” She picked up her glass forgetting its empty state and tried to make nice, “I promise he won’t give you any trouble.”

 

Her words didn’t appease the woman. There was a stare down of epic proportions going on between hunter and prey and Bonnie wasn't sure which end of the spectrum her traveling companion fit. Her grandmother always taught her to read the story of a person’s life by the things that went unsaid, the wounds they made visible for the world to see. Her eyes fell to the ring on the woman’s left hand; the tarnished band with the faded engravings. She noticed the script of a bootleg tattoo one name barely visible and the other, _Jo_. She took a chance stretching her hand forward and gripping the barrel of the gun. Loss, everybody understood loss.

 

The woman met her gaze.

 

“How old was Jo when she died?”

 

She didn’t miss the unspoken question or the hesitation before the woman answered.

 

“Just a little bit older than you,” Bonnie watched as her glass was refilled, “I used to let her drink a shot of Jack every now and again too, guess it doesn’t matter, law doesn’t care about drinking minors with bloodsuckers like him on the loose.”

 

She was on the verge of defending the vampire beside her when she realized the woman just spoke the truth. It was refreshing and somewhat comforting.

 

“I’m Bonnie and this is Damon.”

 

She extended her hand waiting for the woman to put down the gun and wipe her hands on a towel.

 

“Ellen.”

 

They talked for at least an hour over more shots as Damon’s perused the jukebox. He put REM to bed and replaced them with Aerosmith.

 

“What’s a little thing like you doing _with_ him?”

 

Bonnie had gotten used to the questions. The raised brows and extended glances.

 

“I’m not _with_ him.”

 

In record time she shared her story, from the first fire, the premonitions, vampires, wolves, and how everyone she’s ever loved has…

 

She stopped talking before the boy with the warm brown eyes can overtake her memories. She can’t say his name or think about his death, not today. So she took another sip and concentrated on the words Steven Tyler sung.

 

“We’re the only ones left.”

 

It was hard to admit it and even harder to realize that every time she said it became easier to accept.

 

Bonnie saw Ellen when she shook her head and retrieved a few bottles of beer from the bin under the bar. She noted the playful grin tugging at older woman’s lips and she turned to see what’s drastically changed her new friend’s mood.

 

His hair was sandy brown and his eyes…mmm… immediately Bonnie looked down shielding the lust she knew was mirrored in her own. Somewhere between studying his lips when he talked and listening to his boots drag the floor she wondered when was the last time she was kissed.

 

Not the one from the first night on the road with Damon when they were both too drunk to make rational decisions, no a sensuous affair that seared a man’s name into your soul. She forced herself not to look away when he spared her a second glance. She knew the look of desire; it was always Damon’s first tool deployed in every scenario.

 

She expected the hand that brushed against her thigh when he sat down next to her at the bar. She welcomed the gruff whisper that tickled her skin when he asked her name. She resisted the urge to kiss him when she turned staring into those golden eyes to inquire the same.

 

“Dean.”

 

It was only a handshake, but that was all it took to deliver the premonition of sweat soaked sheets and tangled limbs. She stole the bottle from his hands and took a long sip.

 

“I think we’re going to be really good friends.”

 

Dean nodded his head, retrieving his beer, “No making promises you can’t keep.”


	2. Between the Sheets

"I think we should stay."

  
 

Bonnie rubbed lotion into her skin, ignoring the looming figure of Damon in the doorway with a toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth and blue foam covering his teeth, he was pure comedy and she loved it.

  
They hadn't spoken about the six hour marathon they spent in the Roadhouse. He'd been silent behind the wheel of the Charger as they made their way to the town's only motel. He'd flipped between stations on the radio before he finally landed on a Zeppelin rock block. She was tired of running, she just needed to stop, rest, and gather her thoughts.

  
"For a few days, just to see, how it goes."

  
She squirted more of the cream in the palm of her hand and repeated the process; listening as the vampire, brushed, rinsed, and used more than his fair share of the mouthwash.

  
"Your logic is flawed little Bennett, you're thinking with that tight little body and not your brain."

  
She pulled her hair back, avoiding the insinuation waiting to be plucked from Damon's comment. She folded the covers back and crawled into the bed. He soon followed after locking and chaining the door, turning off the lights, and slipping his t-shirt over his head.

  
"Whatever bloodsucker."

  
She pounded the pillow into submission before wrapping her body beneath the sheets.

  
"Does this have something to do with the hunter?"

  
Once Damon was settled, Bonnie rested her head on the cool plane of his chest. Her fingers stroked his pale skin.

  
"I'm not talking about this with you."

  
She felt the laugh reverberate through him and then it stopped.

  
"What the…wait…where the hell am I supposed to sleep when you give in and let that leather wearing loser have some ass?"

  
She could hear the sarcasm and outrage in his voice.

  
"The same place I slept when you picked up that stripper with the limp in Kentucky."

  
Damon groaned.

  
"She didn't have a limp, one of the heels on her boots were broken."

  
Bonnie giggled.

  
"That did nothing to help your case, D."

  
Becoming romantic with Damon had never been an option. Sure when you separated the abs, ass, and gorgeous eyes, from the vampire with sarcastic musings for the world. Any woman would immediately grow hotter and wetter. Still, she couldn't wrap her mind around more. Comfort had been gained early on from tender kisses and nights where liquor conquered reason, his fingers had slipped between her thighs only for them both to back away and end it before it was too late. They had battled their way to friendship and it was enough for her and him.

  
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. On these rare occasions she saw the side of him that had drawn the sliver of humanity in Katherine. It was this Damon that prevented her from frying his brain and forcing him into the sun without his ring.

  
He was her family. She would protect, support, and encourage him until she took her last breath. She knew he would do the same, just with added aggravation and irritation.

  
"I miss home."

  
She felt him flinch under her words. She'd awakened to his nightmares, seen flashes of the images he held dear. Damon missed home. He still pined for Elena and he wanted to tell his brother that he was sorry.

  
"Home is gone Bon."

  
The edge returned to his voice. The unspoken threat, meant to keep her from digging deeper, probing his feelings, and peeling away the scabs on his tender heart.

  
"Doesn't mean I can't miss the Falls, my house…it doesn't mean we can't want more than running…"

  
His hold tightened on her and she brushed her lips across his icy skin, muffling the dry sobs that weaved their way through her body.

  
"Bonnie, stop this madness."

  
He was pleading with her. They were both weak when it came to trips down memory lane.

  
"I need this…please…Damon…"

  
The words caught in the back of her throat. She closed her eyes, willing the memories to cease; Elena's laugh, Caroline's smile, and the feel of Jeremy's hands on her skin.

  
Damon brushed the bangs away from her face, "We've got to move on Bonnie."

  
"I'm not ready."

  
She thought about their new acquaintances. Ellen with her tough words, the man with the laptop, and Dean, the whiskey drinking stranger, doomed to be more than just her friend.

  
"Shit Bennett, you're falling already, that dude has a death wish, the devil is riding his ass hard." Damon sat up, "Is that all it takes a leather jacket and a deep voice." He folded his arms behind his head and stretched his legs, "We should have fucked a long time ago if that's the case."

  
Bonnie pulled his arms down and resumed their previous cuddle huddle, "You're not my type, remember."

  
They listened to the clock on the wall tick, the water from the faucet drip, and the mattress in the next room creak from the weight of two very active bodies.

  
"I'll give you a week little witch and then we've got to get back on the road."

  
Bonnie lifted her body up on an elbow, "You could never say no to me."

  
The glare in Damon's eyes was evident even in darkness and she swore she heard the descent of his fangs, "Don't push me."

  
She pressed her body closer to him, allowing the beat of her heart to quell his anger before she whispered, "Thank you Damon."


	3. Chapter 3

**_Dangerous Curve Ahead_ **

Damon drove the 1969, royal blue Charger along the winding country road. He cranked up the radio when Brian Johnson's raspy voice began to croon the words to _You Shook Me All Night Long_. He was in total karaoke mode when he saw the figure in the middle of the road. His eyes widened and the space that once held a vibrant heart began to pound with phantom beats. There was no way, it just couldn't be possible. He wiped his eyes and returned his hands to the steering wheel.

 

He heard the voice whisper his favorite lines of the song.

 

 _Made a meal out of me and came back for more…_

 _Had to cool me down…_

 _To take another round…_

 _Now I'm back in the ring to take another swing…_

 

He swerved when a pair of cold lips met brushed against his chiseled jaw. The car skidded off the road and into a field. It took skill and diligence to prevent the vehicle from flipping over and destroying all the effort he'd spent to restore the classic muscle to pristine condition.

 

Damon groaned and popped his neck back into place. He licked the blood from his lips and finally opened his eyes to meet a long forgotten face at the edge of the hood.

 

"Hello Damon."

 

The vampire nearly shit a figurative brick with the simple greeting the beauty offered. He'd only seen another pair of eyes that green and right now she was playing bartender with her new mother figure.

 

This wasn't possible. It couldn't be _her_. He'd ended her life years before. Siphoning too much nectar from a vein and allowing her to got someplace better instead of constantly running from death's door, but right now she was standing here, rosy cheeks, green eyes, big smile, and an agenda that he was sure she would soon share.

 

"Hi Tessa."

 

She walked to the door and opened it. He stepped out, still mesmerized. She looked just like she did the day they met.

 

"Are you…"

 

"No, I'm not a life stealer like you, I do something a little more fun," Her finger extended poking him in the center of his chest, "And it's almost your turn."

 

A chill he hadn't felt since the time air filled his lungs flitted over his skin. It felt like death. The moment his life ceased to be and walked in the shadows as not quite demon and no longer man. He pulled his leather jacket tighter around his frame and opened his mouth to speak.

 

"Save it Salvatore."

 

For a moment, he saw a glimpse of the girl he picked up in the bar over horrid boy band ballads and Zima.

 

"Just remember payback is a bitch."

 

Her eyes shimmered a tawny gold and just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.

 

Damon stood in that spot staring at the space that once held her frame. She wasn't vamp or human but something much more deadly. Only one person in this godforsaken corner ofNebraskahad the answers he needed.

 

 **~`~D~`~**

 

"Didn't you see the sign?"

 

He saw the boots of the grease monkey peeking from beneath the Impala.

 

"What sign?"

 

The car was a beauty; nice body, perfect grill, prime target for unlawful ownership once he snapped the pretty boy's neck and drove off into the sunset.

 

The man rolled from beneath the car and gave Damon a questioning gaze, "The one that says no bloodsuckers allowed."

 

The dick only had Bonnie to thank for his miserable life, without the overwhelming lust his traveling companion felt for the knucklehead he would have ended him just for the hell of it, without taking a drop of his blood.

 

"I am not in the mood for your wasted attempts at snark."

 

Damon noticed Dean's eyes drifted to the Charger in front of the building. He was in lust and his mouth watered as he continued to catalog, specific details of the vehicle. He even saw the man wince when he had visible confirmation of the damage from the earlier one car pile up.

 

"I'll let you touch it, if you answer a question or two or three."

 

He could see the man's internal debate play out on his face.

 

"Shit." He wiped his hands on the towel in his back pocket, "Pull that baby inside and get to talking."

 

 **~`~D~`~**

 

Four beers and a half of bottle of whiskey later, his oil was changed, the car waxed, and the superficial damage repaired.

 

"What can you tell me about a girl named Tessa?"

 

Dean quickly sobered up. "I don't know a Tessa." He placed his glass on the table and shook his head.

 

Damon laughed, "You're a terrible liar."

 

New excitement filled him, he'd been with Bonnie alone for two months, and compelling the little witch hadn't been an option. He'd tried, more than once, especially when she'd grown comfortable with how she dressed behind closed doors and her obscene need to cuddle. So instead of screwing, he had learned to talk, share his feelings, and ask open ended questions. Now he had an opportunity to work his mojo and find out all he needed to know about the girl on the country road.

 

He grabbed Dean's attention and forced him to stare deep into his eyes.

 

"What do you know about a girl named Tessa?"

 

The hunter's facial expression shifted and his eyes glazed over before he answered in a facetious tone, "Nothing I'll ever tell your O neg addicted ass." He laughed, "Go compel another sucker, I've been chewing vervain since I was three, try again."

 

It was always the hard asses Bonnie fell for, first Jeremy and now this…

 

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose and took a moment to gather his thoughts. He rattled off the facts and figures surrounding the woman.

 

"She's five foot two, dark hair, green eyes, face like an angel, body made for sin." He was growing impatient, "Come on you gotta know who I'm talking about."

 

Dean took a lazy sip from his glass, "I know if you got a visit from _that_ girl, no one can help you, not even that sexy bundle of fire riding shotgun on your little cross country adventure."


	4. No Win Situation

**_No – Win Situation_ **

 

Bonnie enjoyed her day with Ellen. It was nice for her to have someone to talk to and not hide who or what she was. Magic and demons went hand in hand. The woman had seen it all and was quick to share timely words of advice. She reminded the young witch a lot of her Grams and for a little while the losses Bonnie had endured were not so unbearably hard. She’d spent most of the day listening to Roadhouse tales, stories about hunts, and nights that Ellen and William Harvelle spent under the stars. She’d learned the Winchester history and taken a moment to cry for the boys trapped in a legacy authored by angels and a God she knew refused to put more on you than you could bear, even if it felt like your back was breaking.

 

“Be careful.”

 

She hadn’t known the secret meaning of the words Ellen repeated every time Bonnie’s eyes drifted to the bar’s door as she waited for _him_ to appear that day. There was no hiding her disappointment when he never did. Damon was right, she was falling fast, and over what, a deep voice and an ass that filled out a worn pair of Lucky jeans. It was all her vision’s fault. She didn’t want to have excitement wash over her with the thought of Dean Winchester. She was restless from the two nights constant images of his face stained with tears and right hand curled around the barrel of a gun plagued the space behind her lids. Her heart ached for him even before she knew the details of his mother’s death or the responsibility his father transferred to his shoulders before he took his last breath. She wasn’t the only one who had it hard. She wanted to help. She needed to make it better. It was going to take longer than a week and now she just needed a way to get Damon to let them stay.

 

 The vampire in question was nowhere to be found when she stumbled back into their room after her shift. The air hung heavy with the scent of him, whiskey, Aqua Di Gio, and something she rarely associated with Mr. Salvatore, fear. She moved to turn on the light. Chaos surrounded her, clothes hanging from the drawers, the closet door swinging on a hinge, and the faintest trace of blood on the sheets.

 

He was on a binge.

 

She hoped that the red hued stain on the sheets originated from a bag and not a vein. It would be a small consolation that he wasn’t too far gone and capable of being talked from his proverbial ledge. Her skin prickled with bumps and she rushed to change; quickly removing the shorts and tee that smelled of dried beer and frisky old men.

 

She had just shoved her arm into her jacket when a hand began to beat against the door. She kept the chain in place and opened the door just a bit to see a face she hadn’t expected.

 

“Dean.”

 

Her heart skipped a beat with the sight of him.

 

“Hey.”

 

His voice was like ashes and the grain alcohol her grandfather would force her dad to drink. It warmed her and singed her skin all in the same breath.

 

“What are you…”

 

He interrupted her rambling thoughts.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

She nodded, stepping back just a little so he could squeeze through the space. His eyes took in the disarray around them. She attempted to pick up a few items, the bras strewn across the chair at the desk, the cutoffs she’d worn moments before, and the tee she slept in for the past two nights. His eyes followed her around the room. She shielded the redness in her cheeks with the length of her hair.

 

“Guess he’s not here?”

 

She detected genuine concern in his voice. His fingers trailed along the edge of the bed before he turned to face where she stood by the door.

 

“No, I was headed out to try.”

 

The warm hand that circled her wrist silenced her tongue.

 

“Leave him alone tonight.”

 

Bonnie didn’t know how or why a stranger was so concerned about Damon. That had been her job since the destruction _The Originals_ brought to their lives. He was all she had.

 

“I can’t do…I have to find him.” She heard the stubborn edge return to her voice, “Friends look out for one another, I can’t leave him alone.”

 

Dean kept his hold on her and gently tugged her closer.

 

“Not tonight…”

 

Their bodies were closer than necessary. He had been drinking; she could smell the alcohol on his breath. His hands held the scent of motor oil and car wax. She wanted him to touch her with the same delicacy that he used in repairing the cars inside of the garage. Then she remembered Damon and the promises they made when everything came crashing down around them.

 

She had to find him.

 

“What if he…”

 

Bonnie didn’t want to say the words, not the ones about blood trickling down his throat from the body of an innocent victim, or worse the possibility of a despondent Damon removing his ring and walking into the sun’s light.

 

“Trust me Bonnie, just give him some time.”

 

His fingers released her wrist. They continued to stand, silence between them, until she collapsed in the chair and released a heavy sigh.

 

“You hungry?”

 

She met Dean’s hopeful eyes.

 

“I could eat.”

 

He took her to the stereotypical greasy spoon. Smudged finger prints adorned the windows and vinyl covered the seats. She ordered a chilli cheeseburger, onion rings, and a chocolate shake. When she sat back and belched, an elevated brow was the only response received from the other side of the table. Well that and a well – timed, “Damn.”

 

“I told you I could eat.”

 

He ordered two slices of apple pie and a pot of coffee.

 

“Talk.”

 

It was the only word he managed between shoving helpings of cinnamon infused fruit into his mouth.

 

“About.”

 

She knew what he was asking, but she wasn’t ready to share. It was too hard to cope with the images. Caroline’s tears and the last kiss Jeremy placed on her lips. She had failed them. She gave him the only explanation she had.

 

“Life’s a bitch and then if you’re lucky, you die.”

 

He was relentless and he pushed further.

 

“You sound like the bloodsucker.”

 

For a moment she had forgotten he was a hunter; an enemy who sought to eradicate all the evil supernaturals.

 

“Next time give your hate filled diatribe a little more feeling.” She pushed her plate away, “Is this what you do, befriend the enemy and then pull out your precious little colt and rid God’s green earth of all the devil’s children.”

 

Bonnie moved to stand, only to have her limbs frozen by a look. It was reminiscent of Damon, it read through all the shit she was shoveling.

 

“You done chick.” Dean leaned across the table, “I’m the original master of avoidance.”

 

She leaned across the table, holding his gaze, and challenging his ball buster attitude.

 

“Spell that.”

 

Her body shook with the smirk he offered.

 

“Ah you’re a smartass, I like that about you.”

 

Bonnie dropped her voice to a whisper, “And here I thought you were a boob man.”

 

Their charming banter was interrupted by the buzz of his cell. She picked at her nails pretending not to listen to the one – sided conversation. She knew it was his brother and judging by the look on his face, the call didn’t bring good news. After a few more minutes he disconnected with the flick of a wrist and tossed the phone across the table.

 

The air around them changed, quickly filling with a new tension of the non-sexual variety.

 

“I better get you back to the room.”

 

Dean tossed a few bills on the table before he stood and held out his hand to help her up. They walked to the car and he opened the door for her like a perfect gentleman. She listened to Robert Plant’s reflective words in _Ten Years Gone_ and fought the ghosts lingering on her shoulders.

 

“Maybe I can help.”

 

She heard the grinding of his teeth, “Bonnie, Damon’s going to die.”

 

Her heart sank, “In case you haven’t noticed, Damon’s already dead.”

 

Dean shook his head in the way she’d come to recognize as a tactic of procrastination, “Ever heard of a reaper?”

 

Bonnie swallowed, “Like the grim reaper.”

 

“His number’s up and there’s nothing we can do…”

 

A familiar feeling settled at the center of her chest. It hadn’t resided there, not since the possession of the witches, and her first little disagreement with Klaus. It was helplessness and one person had helped her fight through that. She held on to the memory, his disconcerting advice, and the snark that gave her a kick in the seat of her pants.

 

“I love no – win situations.”

 

Even in the dark Bonnie could see the smile that flashed across Dean’s face.

 

“I knew you were my kind of girl.”

 

 


	5. Too Little Too Late

_Jeremy Gilbert delivered the best kisses. They were filled with promises and pleasure unparalleled. When his hands caressed the curves of her body, Bonnie felt beautiful. Not the kind of physical attractiveness where guys lusted over magazine pages and jacked their dicks until their wrists burned, but in a way that was purely based on adoration. She didn't feel objectified or worshipped. She was essential, a requirement for his world that was reinforced everytime he grazed tongue, teeth, and mouth over her lips and tasted the soft flesh of Bonnie's neck. She wanted nothing more than to spend forever with him. Those moments, those nights, were the very reasons why she'd used magic to keep him out of battles he couldn't possibly win. His effect on her left the young witch with no other choice but to beg for his life and for their future when a wooden bullet had dared to take it all away._

 __

_She knew there would be consequences and she thought that as soon as the spirits of the girlfriends past had been vanquished, that they were through dealing with the after effects of her mystical hell._

 __

_Not until she experienced total happiness did she get her first taste of true misery._

 __

_It had taken them weeks to finally consummate what everyone had watched unfold between them. The night had been beautiful; candles and crisp white sheets._

 __

_"I'll be gentle."_

 __

_She was immediately reminded of the night of the Masquerade Ball and the certainty in his steps and the strength in his hands when he'd led her to the car. He wasn't the same Jer that used to pull her hair._

 __

_Her thoughts were confirmed when his fingers traveled the line from the inside of her thigh to the wetness his kisses had produced. A thumb and a finger brought her to the first orgasm that wasn't self induced. He gave her a different kiss that night, one that separated her most intimate folds and tasted the edge of her soul. It was better than any dream. Her fingers twisted in the long layers of his hair between them and she finally uttered the words she knew he wanted to hear._

 __

_"I love you." Her chest heaved and she swallowed her scream so she could say it again. "I love you Jeremy Gilbert."_

 __

_She was breathless and sweaty before he climbed her body and kissed her lips. She could taste herself and she wanted more; more of him and them together._

 __

_His eyes were warm pools of an amber brown, "I love you too."_

 __

_Bonnie didn't know what force pulled his body from hers. It was too late when her eyes landed on Klaus. She forgot her naked body and flicked a wrist in the air, hoping to toss the vampire in one direction and shield Jeremy's body with her own._

 __

_It was still too little too late; Jeremy tumbled to the ground, eyes open wide, and a faded smile on his face._

 __

_When she stalked towards Klaus, she saw the bloody mass, clutched tightly in the vampire's hand._

 __

_"Look Miss Bennett, his heart still beats for you."_

 __

_With the chilling shrill of a banshee she unleashed an inhuman fury on the man, incinerating him with her rage, smiling and crying as she watched him die a violent, timely death._

 __

_"Too little, too late."_

 __

_That's what Damon had whispered when Bonnie found him, grasping the stake in his chest outside of the Salvatore Boarding house. Everything was gone. They were all dead. Klaus had destroyed everyone she had ever loved and left her in the company of her original enemy._

 __

**_~`~_ **

__

Bonnie shot up, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She clenched the sheets in her hands as her eyes acclimated to the darkness surrounding her. She half expected to see the form of the monster from her dreams hovering in the corner.

 

He wasn't there.

 

Thankfully, it had only been a dream and the worst part of it was the memories; vibrant images from a not too distant past that still bathed her heart in an indescribable pain.

 

The last thing she had seen was Jeremy's eyes. She saw their future in his eyes; the images of a wedding, children, and as close to a normal life as they could possibly have.

 

She would never see it come to fruition.

 

She would never see him...again.

 

The tears started and her sobs lit the air.

 

An unfamiliar arm plucked her from the bed and urged her tear stained face into the side of his neck. It wasn't the chilly appendage she was used to holding her tight on the nights that the terror of her dreams proved to be too much. This one was different. It was warm and strong.

 

"Hey, you okay."

 

 _Whiskey...his voice always made her think of whiskey..._

 __

Dean was still there, watching her sleep, and now rocking her like the baby she had proven to be. She tried to wiggle from his grasp.

 

"Stop, just stop," His arms tightened around her, "Just let me hold you."

 

The leather jacket was gone and for the first time since they met she became personally acquainted with the chiseled features that weren't just assigned to his face. His arms were sculpted perfection and despite his love of beer and hard liquor his chest was smooth cuts of well designed muscle. His shirt was too thin and her mind raced with insane possibilities. It had been too long since she slept next to a warm body.

 

Bonnie didn't fight him, she held on until the residual sobs died and her heart stopped beating an erratic rhythm in her chest. The bass of his voice soothed her as he sung the lyrics to one of her father's favorite Clapton tunes, _Pretty Girl_. It was a song he'd always played for her mother and Bonnie allowed the memory to erase the despair brought on by the taunting images trapped in her subconscious.

 

She went willingly back to the mattress as long as Dean's arms remained securely around her frame. She focused on the words and not the pain of her loss.

 

 **~`~**

 ****

Dean knew bad dreams better than anyone. He'd awakened with the same look on countless nights with the image of his mother burning alive forged in the recesses of his mind. His father's voice haunted him behind his lids and so did the call of the demons in the pits of hell.

 

He did what he could.

 

He gave her the comfort he would want provided to him.

 

He held her and lied.

 

Filling her ears with lyrical phrases that began with the word _every_ while promising that the things in between would be _alright_. Finally when he grew tired of dishonesty, he sung, a garbled tune of notes so far from the right key, and yet somehow between _Slowhand's_ lyrics and a few tricks he recalled from his early childhood, the sobbing soon subsided.

 

She calmed down enough to curl into his chest on the bed. He fought with his body to keep _little_ Dean in check. She needed comfort not a hard screw into the mattress, no matter how easy it would be to make her forget.

 

Damn who was this girl tugging at the strings of his heart.

 

"You want to talk about it?"

 

He asked hoping that she would say no but willing to listen in case her answer was yes.

 

Her body tensed and he waited for her response.

 

"No, just don't let go."

 

So Dean didn't.

 

He held her until the sun's rays erased the fear circling her soul.


	6. Mutual Respect

Dean couldn't sleep.

His mind raced with thoughts and ideas surrounding what dark and hurtful things constantly plagued Bonnie's dreams. She was attached to the hip of a demon; frightened by the possibility of losing him. She sought comfort in the arms of a man that had the scent of gunpowder and whiskey buried so deep in the pores of his skin that no amount of ivory could hope to lift it out. She was one of the faces they tried to protect. The beautiful ones who were supposed to grow up to marry rich men and have healthy babies, all while never knowing about the things that go bump in the night. Destiny had another plan for her, sprinkling an extra something in her veins, troubling her with visions, and witchcraft. Fate had brought Bonnie Bennett into Dean Winchester's life. He buried his face in her hair and tried to sleep into her peace.

Damon appeared a little after his eyes slid closed and his heart took on a restful rhythm.

Bonnie was still wrapped tightly in Dean's arms when the hunter felt like something or someone was watching him. Slowly he opened his eyes and met the distressing gaze of one Damon Salvatore. He cradled the sleeping girl to his chest, unsure of what the undead man's next move would be. He could smell liquor, death, and blood.

Surprisingly the monster's tenor was somber and tinged with emotion.

"She hasn't slept like that…"

The vampire's face was paler than normal, dark circles could be seen beneath his icy blue eyes, and his cheekbones were sharp edges protruding from his face. He had already given up and in that moment Dean noticed the cuts on his hands and wrists.

"You need to feed."

Dean was surprised he made the suggestion. What was he doing, condoning a vicious killer's blood based diet?

Damon held up his arms in full view, "I slice and they keep healing…I just…I need this to end."

"You _need_ to feed."

Bonnie shifted in her sleep and Dean kept one arm wrapped around her, while the other pushed the covers back so that he could move from the bed.

"Stay with her, she needs you."

Dean shook his head, "She needs you more."

He knew losing the shell of a man would do something to the girl in his arms. He wouldn't be able to soothe that pain. His fingers traced the curve of her bare shoulder and for a moment his only concern was her and her happiness.

"Did you fuck her?"

There was something Dean recognized in Damon's tone. He watched as the vampire sniffed the air.

"I guess you didn't." He produced a miniature bottle of liquor and took a long sip, "Pity, there's untapped potential in that young ass."

It was jealousy.

However it wasn't tied to the possibility of something sexual happening between the hunter and the witch.

Damon's envy lay in something far more valuable.

"Even in my arms she still tossed and turned." He drained the bottle in his hand of the remaining liquid, "She couldn't rest…but right now," Damon paused and Dean didn't know where the conversation was headed, "Promise me you'll take care of her when I'm gone."

"You're not going anywhere…Bonnie has a plan."

"It's time for Bonnie to live for Bonnie." Dean watched as Damon walked to the bed and brushed a knuckle across the sleeping girl's face, "She's sacrificed too much of her life for people who didn't deserve it."

"She doesn't see it that way." He pressed further, "Her gift is for others, not herself."

"Damn you sound just like her…a match made in supernatural heaven." Damon's eyes stayed on Bonnie's peaceful face, "I give her shit," Dean could see the fresh traces of tears burdening the man's long lashes, "But she's _my_ little witch."

There was possession in the man's words; an unspoken promise that only Bonnie and Damon understood. A connection that Dean could never touch would always exist between them. They'd endured a catastrophic loss and survived…together.

"Do you love her?"

Hunter held his breath as he waited for the vampire's answer.

"Always have and always will, but she doesn't need to pay for my sins."

Determination Dean knew it had been one of John Winchester's first lessons. You didn't give up until your heart stopped beating and every ounce drained from your lungs. And sometimes you got a second and third chance to make things right. Bonnie and Damon had overcome Klaus for a reason…there was a purpose to their alliance… a reason for the untimely introduction in his life.

"No she doesn't have to pay for your sins." He steeled himself for his next question, "What does Tessa want with you?"

"I'm the one who…"

"I know you drained her, we've covered that already." This time he did manage to untangle his body from Bonnie's and stood beside the bed, "She's a reaper and you're already dead."

"My soul."

Damon only spoke two words.

"And…"

"Tessa has my eternal soul," The man's jaw tightened as he struggled to form the words, "I can turn off my humanity, she's forcing me to feel…guilt…pain…regret…I just want final death."

Dean's experiences with Tessa were few and far between, but in the past he'd known her to strictly follow the rules. Where a gray area existed, she avoided it, but now she was tormenting a creature that was outside of her control.

"Why?"

"Because in some strange and fucked up way she loved me…I broke her heart…now it's about retribution."

He didn't know the rules of engagement or the job specifications of a reaper, but he was pretty sure, that any plan involving torture and or revenge on the killer who ended your life were some type of violation.

"Have you tried apologizing?"

The mood lightened with the mischievous glint in Damon's eyes, "Oh yes…I'm so sorry for pricking your veins and bleeding you dry, now could I go back to playing Bonnie and Clyde substitute Damon for Clyde."

"No, smartass," And to think Sam called Dean a sarcastic asshole with a superiority complex. He really needed to meet Damon Salvatore, "I mean a sincere apology," Dean shrugged, "Hell you probably hurt her feelings…nothing worse than a pissed off…vengeance seeking…other worldly woman…"

Had Dean really devised something like a plan that didn't involve driving a stake through Damon's heart?

The vampire stood, his shoulders square, for the first time since his return to the room, "Don't expect me to start referring to you as my friend now."

Dean echoed a similar comment, "Don't expect me to stop trying to lift that ring from your finger, so I can watch you sizzle in the sun."

Saving Damon meant shielding Bonnie from any additional heart break, it had nothing to do with the respect he was slowly building for the bloodsucker.


End file.
